


Inquisitor Evelyn, at your service (fuck you)

by Floranna



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: All rape and underage stuff was in the past, Canon-Typical Violence, Chantry hate, F/F, F/M, Inquisitor hates Chantry and Templars, Lot of cursing, M/M, Multi, Not Cullen friendly, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Tags will be added when necessary, hopefully not bashing though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 10:04:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7569931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Floranna/pseuds/Floranna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one wanted Evelyn as their Herald, least of all her. They wouldn't even let her kick idiots in the face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inquisitor Evelyn, at your service (fuck you)

**Author's Note:**

> As I said, tags will be added when necessary. English isn't my first language, so thank sleepyspoonie for her amazing work.

The mage who people had already started calling Herald stood at the door with Cassandra, head bowed and gripping the edge of her shirt anxiously. Cullen looked at her, wondering. She looked to be in her thirties, with very short and messy brown hair, and she stood several inches taller than even Cullen himself. She was dressed in a worn and shapeless mended clothing with unremarkable colours and simple cut. He had seen hundreds of peasants dress up the same, which left him wondering. There was nothing particularly memorable about her, save for the large scar on the right side of her face that slashed from the top of her hairline to the edge of her jaw. Pale red tattoos traced the left side of her face, offering an… odd look to her features.  When he saw the milky white film covering the eye on her scarred side, Cullen started. If she could see from it, he would eat his shield.

When it was Cullen’s turn to introduce himself, the mage opened her mouth and cut him off: "I know who you are."

Cullen stiffened at her tone and felt dread fill his stomach.

"You are Meredith's fist."

Oh no.

***

Evelyn Trevelyan stood outside the Chantry, taking in deep, desperate breaths. Chatter filled the air around her, crowding her thoughts, but Evelyn did her best to block them out. After a while, her breathing evened out and she walked away. The people still stopped to stare, but they no longer gave the awkward as fuck guard of honour to her. Evelyn's heart nearly stopped though when she spotted the Templar sigils on some of the onlookers' chests. For a terror-filled heartbeat she expected a smite to force her on her knees, but the Templars stayed still when she passed them.

When she finally reached the house she woke in, she fell through the door and slammed it shut as hard as she could. There was a latch, but it was stiff and refused to move. Her hands were shaking, and the tears blurred her vision. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get the latch to move shut, until finally she used a small bit of force magic to make the latch shut. Though she only used a small portion of her mana, the spell nearly blew the whole latch off, making Evelyn jump. She’d nearly blown the latch off, but at least it _moved_.

Evelyn collapsed on the bed, pushed her face down on the pillow, and sobbed. Marie, Ciela, Onkel, Frannie, Ermetien... All gone forever. There would be no more ribald jokes from Laurent, no Qaranne trying to outdo him but always failing hilariously. No more burnt food when it was Viana's turn to cook, no more exciting combinations of Tarina's attempts to make something edible... No more Benna. Benna with her red hair, long scars and crooked lips. No more of her tireless working to ensure everyone was healthy. No more of her sunburst scar staring at Evelyn, reminding her of her own failures.

Evelyn bit down on the pillow, trying to stay quiet. The tears wrenched out of her, making her feel sick and weak. After awhile they eased, leaving her empty and tired.

She wondered if she would be allowed to give a memorial for them.

Trying to turn her mind off the depressing thoughts, she pulled her left hand from under the pillow and gazed at the mark on her palm. The pain had eased to a small ache, and if the level stayed similar she should be able to use her hand regularly again. Carefully, she channelled some mana, but it immediately flared bright enough to give her a spotty vision.

Mistake, mistake, big mistake! She shook her hand frantically, and in desperation, she slammed her palm against the wall, hoping to put it out. The pain from the hit cleared her mind a bit and she blushed in embarrassment. She was an experienced enchanter, and now she was reduced to acting like an apprentice who had accidently set their sleeve on fire. The mortification helped Evelyn to ease her thoughts and concentrate on the feel of the mark.

It was...odd. And powerful. While it did draw from her mana reserves, Evelyn realized that when she concentrated harder she could feel it actually going through her mana pool like a channel, straight to... the Fade?

Evelyn gasped at the realization. More thorough search of her mana confirmed her suspicion. The contact to the Fade was constant, but right now it was like a door left slightly ajar. She thought she might be able to open it fully but hesitated to test it. The situation outside was far too delicate for her to accidentally blow the building sky high. Evelyn grunted in frustration. If she had known its significance, she would have been far more attentive to it while closing the smaller rifts and the Breach.

Her mana pool had yet to fill again since her attempt to seal the Breach even after three days, but she could feel it growing at a far faster pace than usual. Evelyn sat on the bed, feeling confused at the realization. If the increase had stayed constant, and if her hazy memories of her mana usage at the closing attempt were correct, plus that that mana returned back slower when injured or overly exhausted, and even with the other exceptions, she still should have been on full power when she woke. But she was notably not.

Evelyn frowned and concentrated more firmly, ignoring the mana flow and giving her attention to the mana pool itself and the depth of its fillings. She nearly choked on her saliva at the resulting realization. She wasn't on full power because her mana pool had grown. Exponentially. She could feel the walls of her limits, and even they felt flimsy. Evelyn suspected that even when she reached those limits they would continue to expand.

This had... promise, she admitted begrudgingly to herself, but she would have to practice immediately. She had always evaluated the amount of mana she needed to put on the spells in how much it took from her in percentages. Now, unless she wanted to burn down the house trying to light a candle, she needed to start to practice control. Again. Like a spotty apprentice. Evelyn grimaced at the thought.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. She stilled and stared at the door in trepidation, making no sound. Soon, a calm voice called behind the door: "Ahh, Herald, it's me, Solas. I wish to speak with you."

For a moment Evelyn's brain was blank. _Who...?_ But then she remembered. He was that bald elf who had figured out the connection between the mark and rifts, and who had fought at her side along with the seeker and the dwarf.

She rose from the bed and slowly walked towards the door. The latch moved smoothly now and she opened the door with ease. Solas was still standing there with a patient expression on his face. He was tall for an elven man, the top of his head reaching her mouth. Evelyn beckoned him in and immediately locked the door after him. The elf was still unflappable, but Evelyn didn't think she imagined the slight feel condescension towards herself from him. She stilled her wish to bristle. It would be no good to drive away any potential allies, especially with the Meredith's Fist in a leadership position.

Solas was standing in the middle of the room, clearly waiting for her to say something. Evelyn let out a small sigh and tugged her shirt downwards. "Did you wish to talk about something?"

The elf gave an enigmatic smile and said: "I wished to see you now that you have awoken, and to check on the mark again. Only if you give me permission, of course."

Evelyn hesitated a heartbeat until she thrusted her left hand towards Solas. It would do no good to deny the man: he and the others had already confirmed that he had been the one to keep her alive during her first bout of unconsciousness. It was likely that he had been working on it in the latter one, as well. And it would be good to get confirmation to her own speculations.

There weren't enough chairs so both of them sat on the bed. Solas regarded the mark in silence, and Evelyn grunted when she felt him push a small amount of his own mana into it. Solas looked at her in surprise: "You could feel that?"

"Yes. I have always been able to feel the other people's use of magic, but it has never been this sensitive."

"It's...remarkable that it should stay."

"Why?" Evelyn asked, curious.

"Ahh, that kind of ability tends to be more common with people who have a small mana pool, and now, as yours has grown so much," Evelyn nodded in confirmation that she had noticed this change, so Solas continued: "It would have not been remiss for it to have severely lessened."

Evelyn huffed. "My mana pool has always been slightly larger than average," and left it at that. Solas just hummed and continued his gentle ministrations.

She ended up rolling her sleeve near to her shoulder, while Solas felt his way to how far the energy had spread.

"It looks to only affect the palm of your hand, but I could feel miniscule tendrils spreading from it. The mark does seem stable."

There was pensiveness in his expression that worried her. "But...?"

Solas sighed. "I have no way of telling how long the stability will last. It's very possible that it will stay in this state for months or even years, but in the end it will continue spreading."

Evelyn closed off her expression. "What would be the symptoms of it failing?"

Solas gave a small shrug. "Extreme pain, uncontrollable flaring, the light spreading up you arm... It would be impossible to say for sure."

Evelyn stared blankly at the opposite wall for several moments. Solas had let go of her hand and was respectful enough not to break the silence. Evelyn gave herself a small shake and smiled, standing up. "I am sorry, but I would really like to go to bed now."

Solas stood and started walking away. When he reached the door, Evelyn added: "And Solas? Thank you for your help, and for saving my life. I do appreciate it." Solas gazed at her, nodded and left, closing the door quickly behind him.

Evelyn stood still for a few heartbeats, until she gave in and rushed to put down the latch. Her head was buzzing with anxiety and she knew that sleep would be far off.

***

Even after few days, the buzz of her supposedly being the Herald of Andraste refused to settle down. Evelyn thought with growing suspicion and dread that it would only continue to grow, and that the heads of the Inquisition were actually deliberately spreading it. The whole thing made her feel sick in her stomach. She had helped some people in the village, simply to get away for a bit, even if she couldn't go far. Evelyn had no doubts that the spymaster had people watching her and reporting her every move.

 _Just like in a Circle_ , thought Evelyn darkly, and look, now she was going to throw up for real.

The dwarf, _Varric_ , approached her with a mildly worried expression while she was still puking out chunks of her breakfast. Evelyn gagged again, with the smell of her vomit filling her nostrils. She straightened carefully and walked past him to pick some clean snow to wash the taste out of her mouth. She stumbled a bit and grimaced at the feel of cold snow at her legs. The pants were far too short for her, ending several inches above her ankles.

"Feeling sick?" His voice was warm with an undercurrent of worry. Evelyn looked at him, spitting out the melted snow and mumbled, "It's just my nerves acting out a bit."

Varric nodded and changed subject: "You still going to the Hinterlands? Is there any room for one more traveller?"

"What, you actually want to come?" Evelyn exclaimed in surprise. She had been dreading this trip the moment she had heard about it. In her experience, meetings with Chantry mothers had never gone well. Now, as an apostate under the Inquisition's banner and as a non-faithful so-called Herald of Andraste, the situation was far more explosive than ever before.

"What, I just love outdoors. And bears. And possible death in the hands of mages or templars." Varric quipped with a grin, but sobered up quickly. "No. I was there when all of this started in Kirkwall. I should've been able to stop this before it even begun. I want to help to end this."

A tendril of rage and disappointment grew in her chest. Of course it was like this. It always was. "If the war hadn't started then, I would be dead", she said with a heavy finality, looking at him straight in the eyes.

Varric looked at her in surprise for her outburst. After a moment she could see suspicion entering his eyes, and she knew what he was thinking. Why would she be dead? Was she a blood mage? A maleficar? She didn't stay to wait for his questions, turning around and starting to walk towards the forest. She wanted to get some more practice in before it was time to leave. She stilled after few steps and said: "You can come if you want. We leave tomorrow after the morning chant."

There were no words after that.

***

Well, at least there were no horses. Yet. Though she did have a magnificent blister growing on her left foot. Bleeding new boots. She was pondering on the benefits of testing the possible differences in her healing abilities against letting it harden naturally when she heard Pentaghast announce that they were nearing the Crossroads.

Evelyn straightened her back and breathed in. She would need all her wits with her when she met this Mother Giselle.

"Mages!" yelled the Seeker suddenly. Evelyn whipped her head, trying to see them, hoping. When she saw the mages she let out a frustrated sound. These were the ones who had separated from the rebellion a long time before, the ones who attacked everything that moved. There had been talk for hunting them down, but they simply hadn’t had enough people to spare to still be protected from the Templars.

Lightning arched towards her and she dove to the side. She sent a fireball into the cluster of enemy mages and sellswords, while the Seeker ran at the front, sword drawn. They were both thrown backwards from the sudden force of her blast, hitting the ground rolling.

Evelyn rose to her feet, noting that she had lost the grip of her staff and couldn't see it anywhere. Her ears were ringing and she could barely heard anything. All of the opponents were completely incinerated, alongside some of the fences and bushes. Evelyn wished that nothing important was destroyed, when a smite hit her, making her stagger.

She turned around, seething. Evelyn knew she shouldn't trust the seeker, and know the other woman had attacked her when her guard was down. But Pentaghast was looking at the other direction, and there was none of the smell of just used templar powers on her. When Evelyn turned her head to see what the older woman was looking, she took a sharp breath between her teeth. A group of templars were approaching them, with several having their hand reached in the gesture of the smite.

Evelyn looked again for her staff, but could see it nowhere. Varric fired his crossbow at one of the Templars, but he caught it on his shield. Solas' magic settled on her in the form of a barrier, giving her some protection from their attacks. Cassandra was bellowing something, making them attack her, but there were simply too many.

Evelyn gritted her teeth, took a stance and launched herself airborne when a templar came close enough. She twisted in the air, bringing her foot on the side of the man's head, grimacing at the sudden pain on her foot. Hitting armour always hurt, and she would be getting several bruises from this. The helmet moved, blinding her attacker and she went low to duck his wild swings.

Evelyn planted her hands on the ground, kicking him with her both legs and getting up from the momentum. The man was thrown backwards, and he had lost the grip on his sword, but he still managed to stay standing. Evelyn went low again, swiping his legs and making him fall on to the shallow pond. The man was clearly stunned, not rising up immediately. She rushed towards him, saw that his neck had been exposed in the fighting and stomped on it hard, crushing his throat.

She raised her head and saw the others looking at her in shock, with the bodies of the rest of the Templars surrounding them. For a moment she blinked at the three of them until her nerves ran out and she barked: "What?"

The dwarf was the first to open his mouth. "Well Herald, Circle mages aren't particularly known for fighting without magic. Where in the Maker’s name did you learn that?"

Evelyn bristled at him and snarled: "Take a wild guess", without explaining more. Finally she saw where her staff had went and picked it up. It wasn't as good as her old one, with unfamiliar shape and made of wood. She really needed to give the smith her schematics. Even if the materials would be shoddier quality, it would at least be somewhat more familiar to use. The smite was still working, adding to her foul mood, but it deteriorated far faster than usual. Because of the Mark?

"Let's go meet this fucking nun," Evelyn said, ignoring Seeker's disgusted noise. This day could hardly get any worse.

***

The world did seem to enjoy proving her wrong, didn't it, Evelyn thought despairingly when she stood next to the Mother and the patient the nun was trying to persuade to accept magical healing. She herself ended up taking a look at the wound in boredom and snorted loudly.

When both of them looked at her, surprised, she rolled her eyes. "Well, if he is unwilling to take healing, I would respect that. I would let some herb-healers take care of him, easing his pain when he took" she quickly pushed forward to take a better look at the wound, "over week to die in utter agony, with his insides rotting and stinking up the place and everyone suffering from hearing his pained death groans. Or I would get him a magical healer, he would be healed in fifteen minutes, half an hour tops. He would suffer from a runny stomach for few days and make a full recovery." She smiled again, taking petty joy at the horror on the man's face. This was always the fun part of the healing process.

It didn't surprise her that the man quickly agreed to be healed and the Mother briskly walked her and the rest of the makeshift team away from unwanted ears.

Mother Giselle had a serene looking face, and she didn't flinch at her scar and tattoos. The nun obviously had to strain her neck to be able to look her in the eyes, but even that she did with unflappable grace. Evelyn squished down hard the small flickering of jealousy she felt and concentrated on what the Mother was saying.

When Giselle mentioned that she should go to Val Royeaux, Evelyn stopped to stare, and yelled out: "Are you utterly _mental_?!" Cassandra wheezed in surprise, and Evelyn skittered quickly away from her reach, as she was making quite concerning grabbing motions. Evelyn was also sure that she saw Mother Giselle raise her eyes to the high heavens, and was _that_ expression familiar as fuck.

Well, the rest of the mighty Inquisition seemed to think this was an excellent idea, and Pentaghast went immediately to send a raven for the spymaster. Evelyn decided to try to get rid of her bad mood by wandering around the Crossroads.

After listening to at least half a dozen pleas for help, she was left feeling far more invigorated. There was so much to do, and hopefully the Seeker wouldn't raise too much of a fuss. They had said something about raising the Inquisition's presence, right?

And she wanted to kill something. Bunch of rams could help, and if she was lucky they might even see some bandits. Varric and Solas were giving her slightly disturbed looks, but that was nothing new. Evelyn started to hum one of the more ribald tavern songs, which made Varric choke on air. Encouraged by this, she started to sing the words out loud, earning several disapproving glares. She could also swear that she heard a low chuckle from Solas.

Of course this was the moment when the Seeker came back.

After getting a dress-down big enough to be put in history, they started to walk east to hunt some rams.

***

When they started to make camp, Evelyn was completely exhausted. All three of them had been keeping a very close eye on her the whole day and she had had to be hyperaware of everything she did or said. It might not have even been malicious in their part, but Evelyn knew that they would never believe her to be some sort of harmless Circle mage. The fireball she had thrown at those mages and the way she killed that templar had destroyed that chance quite thoroughly.

She and Varric started to put up the tents, while Solas set the fire and the Seeker dug out the food pot and their rations. Soon they were all sitting around the fire, waiting for the food to finish cooking and for someone to break the silence. Evelyn carefully massaged some healing balm she had made into her bruises, wincing slightly at the flaring pain.

In the end, unsurprisingly, it was the dwarf who spoke first.

"Why won't you heal your bruises?"

Evelyn deliberated on if she should give a honest answer to that. At last, she relented and said: "I hesitate to use spirit healing, or any type of healing really, at my current level of control."

The Seeker raised her head and stared sharply at her. "Control? Why do you have trouble with control?"

She let out an annoyed sigh. "The Mark made my mana pool grow exponentially, and I have had problems on how to measure the mana needed for a spell."

Varric was looking mildly confused so she continued: "The fireball I sent against those who attacked us in Crossroads? Before the Mark I used the same percent of mana to light up a candle."

Cassandra and Varric stiffened at the thought, both clearly remembering the damage she had caused. Even Solas looked mildly surprised. "That's why I won't use healing now, it would be too easy to muck things up. I remember when we apprentices started to learn spirit healing, we often overflowed our spells and healed things wrong. Rats with completely solid joints and spines, joining two different mice with each other, or with monstrous tumours."

  
After that, she quickly ate her portion of the food. The others were looking disturbed and she wanted to be far away from this awkward situation. When she crawled inside the tent she shared with the Seeker, she paused and dug inside her bag, digging up her healing balm. Evelyn lobbed it at the Seeker who caught it deftly. "Use that for your bruises and scrapes." Then she went back in and tried to settle down. She could hear low murmuring outside, but couldn't make out any of the words. Evelyn pulled the blanket over her head, even if it meant that her foot were left uncovered. She had the second shift and she wanted to get at least some sleep before it.

**Author's Note:**

> Evelyn's fighting style is similar to capoeira, and where she learnt it will be revealed in due time.
> 
> Please review, this is my first chapter fic and I am really nervous! =DD My tumblr is floranna2, if interested.


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